


Crush(ed)

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Nonbinary Character, Other, Safer Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:19:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2114814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running into an old friend at a Faunus club goes a lot better than Blake expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush(ed)

The Cathouse was probably the most stereotypical name Blake could think of for a Faunus bar, but just shy of its sixty-fifth anniversary, it was almost three times older than she was. It wasn’t exclusive — it would be  _illegal_  to ban humans from entering the premises, after all — yet the chances of one stumbling onto the place were fairly low, considering it was a converted hunting lodge hiding on a back road.

Founded by Black “Boozehound” Shuck, it had been a haven in the days when  _No Mutts_  was emblazoned on the doors of human-run businesses, providing everything from alcohol and a menu friendly to every breed to a space in the basement for protesters to have meetings by the old whiskey still. Some of the founding members of the White Fang had written their first manifestos here, their presence shown in the wolf’s heads carved into the wood of booths and walls, even if almost half of them had been scratched out or altered over time.

Now everything was aboveboard, or so said the council of veterans who made up the management. While there might have been a liquor license in a shiny frame near the door next to the health inspector’s certificate, the lingering undercurrents of rebellion weren’t gone. Things were better than they used to be when she was a kid, improving year by year, but the far wall of the bar portrayed a mural of the Faunus War with a dozen swords protruding from General Lagune’s chest as a reminder that they weren’t equal yet. Old protest signs were nailed to the oak columns holding up the roof, splashed with slogans as simple as  _No Rights, No Peace_  to the extremes of  _Fuck The Petting Zoo_ and  _Burn Menagerie_.

If nothing else, it was nice not to be in the minority for once. The bartender had canid ears — wolf, by Blake’s guess — and a set of rat triplets were playing pool in the corner. Every sort filtered in and out from monkey to bull, even a wolverine with her sharp claws extended, drinks and food shoved down the polished counter one after another. It only added to the energy in the room, glass and elbows alike clattering against tables, low whispers and hands sliding up covered thighs betraying intent. Far from its revolutionary heyday, there were a lot more hookups than rabble-rousing these days and the owners knew it, going by the clear fishbowls of condoms and packets of lube set out in the back, free for the taking. They were under the counter once supposedly, but word was the staff got tired of translating the metaphors of every embarrassed customer who couldn’t admit they were going to wrap it up and go screw in the back.

Blake understood why. Without the ever-present threat of cops raiding the place combined with the slow decline of the White Fang, the bar served more as a waystation for Faunus hunters looking for a chance to blow off steam than anything else. They weren’t a community, just a collection of the unaligned, disconnected except for the differences their blood made manifest. Looking down into her beer, only halfway gone, Blake sighed and poked at the remainder of her fries. Maybe it had been a mistake to come here, but the food was good, at least.

“Long time, no see, stranger.”

Blake’s attention snapped to the left to find a familiar pair of brown eyes and mahogany locks tucked back below a set of rabbit ears. An oxblood leather jacket fit snug around Velvet’s shoulders, unzipped just enough to show a slender gold torc encircling her throat and the lapels of a white blouse. With a skirt that cut off just above the knee hiding the tops of dark stockings and leading down to matching boots, it was a nice look, but the warm smile on her face was what made it, a far cry from the girl who kept her strength in a stiff spine and eyes locked forward. Almost every Faunus had been quiet their freshman year at Beacon, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Hey.” Blake recovered with a faint return of the smile. “I should have known I might run into someone I knew here.”

“Doesn’t seem to stop anyone from trying to maintain a bit of mystery.” The tips of Velvet’s ears flicked towards the crowd.

“What do you mean?” Blake asked.

Pulling her hands from the pockets of her jacket, Velvet gestured with an elbow to a man with a narrow rack of antlers on his head chatting animatedly with a puma Faunus who only seemed to be halfway paying attention. It took a moment for recognition to kick in with the constant milling of other patrons obscuring him from view, but as soon as his mouth split in a too-wide grin, Blake held back a laugh. August had been in the class the year after them, although he was more memorable for irritating Goodwitch in record time rather than his skill on the battlefield.

“Seems to be the new trend to give a false name.” Velvet pushed a few stray strands behind one human ear; her nails were short but painted scarlet. “He introduced himself as Brutus to that girl and then Herne when I went over to say hi. I guess he didn’t recognize me.”

“Isn’t he—” Blake squinted back in that direction, just in time for August to push up his sleeve and point to a scar, flexing all the while. If she remembered right, he had messed up his arm trying to drop water balloons on the professors and slipping off the tower roof, not whatever Grimm he was imitating with a wild gesture.

“From Beacon? Yeah.” Velvet shook her head. “It looks like he’s gotten over his class clown phase, because August thinks he’s a stud now.”

“I had enough trouble figuring things out without having to come up with a new name.” Amusement tugged at one side of Blake’s mouth. “How about you?”

“I couldn’t get away with anything but Velvet here.” She pointed to the empty stool in front of her. “You mind if I sit?”

“No, of course not.” Blake swiveled both legs back towards the bar to keep them from knocking together.

One of Velvet’s fingers traced over the graffiti carved into the counter, highlighting the whiskers on a crudely shaped mouse. “Is it your first time to the Cathouse?”

“No, Sun dragged me here last year for his bachelor party. Yang and I finished a hunt early this morning and I wanted to spend some time out.” Taking a long sip of her beer, Blake frowned; it wasn’t cold anymore. “Seems like you know the place.”

“This is probably my second home, which is saying something since I only live about a mile down the road.” Velvet said.

Blake raised a brow. “I didn’t think anyone lived around here. It’s back-wilds everywhere you look.”

“Living out of the way is a lot easier when your type can’t hide in plain sight.” Velvet absently glanced up at her ears before her eyes widened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

A few years ago she might have flinched or twitched at the comment, but there was just a singular stab of regret low in Blake’s gut. One of the changed tenets of the more violent White Fang was that hiding Faunus features made for a coward; masks were permitted to conceal identity or show rank, but they were never to refute what made them different, hated. The fact that she could disguise it at all had been a mixed blessing — swallowing every reflex, biting her tongue, playing blind in the dark — but anyone like Velvet didn’t even have that chance without going to horrific extremes.

“It’s fine. Really, it’s…nice not to have any secrets anymore.” Blake gave a small nod of assent when the bartender came over and reached to take the soggy basket of fries away. “How did you end up with a bar for a second home?”

“Where I live now used to belong to my parents. They’re retired on the coast now, but when I was growing up, they spent almost every night after work here and I ran around behind the counters and helped with trays.” Velvet shrugged. “It was different then. More like a family tavern that got raided by the police once in a while rather than a, well—”

“A hunters’ hook-up spot?” Blake cleared her throat quietly, golden eyes flickering to the back of the room. It had sounded like a nice idea when she was half-asleep in a train car back from the outskirts of Vale with Yang. “There’s still self-liberation pamphlets near the bathrooms, at least.”

“I remember when they were printing them. The police always knocked over the shelf like it was clockwork just so everyone would have to clean up the mess when they left. I had to hide under this counter.” Velvet’s palm slid across the old, polished wood. “They only arrested kids when they thought they were White Fang, but it didn’t take much for that.”

“It never does.” Breaking out of temporary cuffs and zip-ties was one of the earliest lessons Blake remembered from Adam, even if it meant biting at them until they snapped. It wasn’t even about taking criminals off the street but shattering morale, scaring the families who supported them with food and shelter. “Do you want a beer or something? Since we’re diving into nostalgia headfirst.”

“Sure. That’d be great.” A frown drained the last of the wry amusement out of Velvet’s face. “I didn’t mean to kill the mood. Sometimes it’s hard to forget, you know?”

“Some things shouldn’t be forgotten. It gives people the idea that everything’s been forgiven.” Blake waved the bartender back over. “Can I get two more dry stouts, please?”

Exchanging both open bottles for the Lien between her fingertips, she offered one to Velvet, who took a sip and let out a pleased hum at the taste. “What were you and Yang hunting earlier?”

“A Nevermore made its nest in a construction site up north and no one noticed until all the eggs hatched. The workers fled, a crane got knocked over, it was a mess.” Blake hadn’t missed the sudden change in subject, but it seemed better to let it go. “We got paid for a rush job to clean them out before close of business. Are you still taking on work?”

Velvet nodded. “Coco calls whenever she has a job for all of us. We do a lot of remote locations, usually where they want to start setting up a new outpost or something and find a King Taijitu sleeping nearby. Fox says our specialty is ‘big game’ since the Grimm get  _huge_ the farther out from the city you get.”

“I always wondered why that was. Ruby says the same thing about the border towns.” The loud whine and scratch of a microphone being plugged in made both pairs of Blake’s ears twitch before she looked back over her shoulder. In the far corner past the booths, a quartet was wrangling a drum set into place, goat horns curling in unique spirals from each of their heads. A pan flute stuck out from a leather pouch dangling around the neck of the tallest, her eyes the color of spring skies. “They play music here, too?”

“Yeah. I don’t think the bands make very much, but if they’re popular, you can usually buy downloads off the scroll terminal near the door. Stepping stones to the top and all that.” Velvet took a long look at the band before nodding. “That’s  _Faunesse_. They’re good, but they get pretty loud. All four of them sing, it’s kind of a chorus deal.”

Blake didn’t mind a bit of live entertainment, but just the drums in the confines of the bar would probably rattle her skull. “What kind of loud?”

“Ever been to a revel with the horned types?” A laugh flowed from Velvet’s lips, light and warm. “They do traditional tribal music with howl-and-growl punk vocals. Loud might be an understatement.”

“Oh.” Not every Faunus had sensitive ears, she supposed.

“We can take our drinks out to the back if you want.” At Blake’s questioning look, Velvet was quick to clarify, “there are benches outside. Not the other room.”

“Right. Sure.” Last time she had seen the back room, half a dozen strangers were doing shots off Sun’s abs; who knew what state it was in now. As soon as Velvet turned around, Blake reached down to adjust herself, grateful for the low front of the trousers she had worn.

Velvet wove through the crowd with ease, slipping past a gauntlet of elbows and precariously held drinks untouched. Blake had a somewhat more difficult time with the trek; making herself smaller had been a lot easier before combat school, when a proper diet and compulsory training turned a lean and sharp frame into solid muscle. Having Yang for a partner helped too — by senior year, she had been able to take as many full-bore punches as she could dodge. With a couple of scattered apologies, the press of bodies on either side parted enough for her to catch up, beer cradled in one hand to keep it from spilling.

The cracked edges of the moon were just beginning to show when the door clicked shut behind them, a gold haze lingering across the horizon from the falling sun. With a large slab of concrete and a couple of heavy oak benches, it wasn’t a very lively porch, but the noise of the bar was muted to a dull roar; this far from Vale proper, the only sound given in answer was the low chirp of crickets and a wandering cloud of fireflies flitting above the grass, providing a touch of light to the quiet song. It was strange to look into the woods and not be on alert for Grimm, but Blake knew the forests here were kept safe. Faunus had no official lands or titles anymore, yet they claimed some places by presence alone, regardless of who owned the deed.

Once, Vytal had just been wilderness, instead of property divided up by human hands.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Velvet asked, taking a seat on the bench closest to the edge of the treeline. “There’s a river next to my house that winds all the way down here. You can catch fish there closer to spring.”

Blake let out a soft huff. “You fish? I thought you were a vegetarian.”

“I am, but when you’re ten, fishing sounds a lot more exciting than picking berries off bushes only for your mother to tell you to throw them away because they’re poisonous. Besides,” inclining her head away from the woods, Velvet smiled, “our neighbors were wolf-blooded. The girls I grew up with didn’t mind eating what I caught.”

Picturing it strained the edges of Blake’s imagination; she had learned to run across asphalt and rooftops instead of broken trunks and streams, since the city was where the largest battles were fought, the ones that made front page news. Most humans didn’t care about Faunus scattered around the outskirts of liveable land, it was when they tried to live in concert that friction became violence, their presence an assault on civilization itself, or so every kingdom politician coughed behind their hands. At least, when their kind had been officially at war, the soldiers were honest about wanting them wiped off the face of Remnant.

Having a place in the middle of nowhere with a stream to fish in sounded nice. Peaceful, even.

“You still get the same little furrow right between your eyes when you’re thinking too hard.” Velvet said, pointing at her own face. “Usually it was in history class or when Cardin opened his mouth. It’s cute, though.”

Blake almost spat out the mouthful of beer that had been halfway down her throat. It burned up her nose and back, but a pained gasp kept it from being a graceful save. “ _Cute_?”

“I mean, no matter which uniform you were wearing, I always had a bit of a crush on you. Which was a problem when you had the bow, since I think my father would cry if I got tangled up in a human.” The pointed sip Velvet took from her bottle couldn’t disguise the blush warming both cheeks with pink. “Not that it stopped me.”

“I wish you had told me then.” After a second’s hesitation, Blake shook her head. “Never mind, I don’t. Every year it seemed like something world-shattering came up and my relationships never went beyond adrenaline-fueled makeouts or sneaking something quick in the shower. Dating me would have been a mess.”

“Dating’s always a mess. Coco and I tried for almost two years, but when your girlfriend is your leader and your partner, it’s…hard to draw all the lines between them since you already do everything together.” Velvet shrugged. “We did it because it was nice to have someone.”

“It works sometimes. Ren and Nora had engagement rings by graduation day.” The memory drew out a smile; their wedding was the first time Blake had ever seen pink bridesmaid dresses  _and_  suits. “Ruby and Weiss are heading that way. Yang and I might have to drag our dear leader to a jewelry store if she doesn’t pick up on the anvil-sized hints Weiss has been dropping, though.”

“And who didn’t see  _that_  coming?” A soft laugh faded to silence, although the color across Velvet’s face remained. “I don’t know. I guess friends-with-benefits has always worked out best for me.”

“Is this where I ask if we’re friends?” Blake asked, nearly mumbling the question into the mouth of her beer. It had been a joke. Mostly.

The last thing she expected was for Velvet’s attention to shift towards the forest after a tight, visible swallow. “Well, I’d like to think so.”

Halfway through scraping together the words for an apology, there was the quiet clink of glass on wood.  _Sorry_ caught like a weight in her throat as the distance between them closed to an inch, then disappeared completely. The soft press of Velvet’s mouth wasn’t anything like Blake was used to; the kisses that rocked her senses like a blow and left her knees weak, blood wetting her tongue. That was desperation, need burning through her veins like quicksilver, but this was warm and wanting, inviting without a hint of expectation. Fingers cupped her jaw, slender yet calloused — it was easy to forget that a huntress’ hands could be gentle — and Blake leaned into the contact, returning the kiss until the world blurred at the edges.

When they broke apart, excitement brimmed dark in Velvet’s eyes. “Are we?”

“Yeah.” Blake said, breathless.

The second kiss was messier than the first, hunger slipping easily past restraint, but it wasn’t until Velvet caught one wrist and drew her hand up to smooth over the soft fur at the base of both ears that Blake realized that she hadn’t ever been with another Faunus before. Preference wasn’t the issue, or even a choice; the last time she had been surrounded by her own kind was with the White Fang, where such distractions were frowned upon. Sun’s party might have been another opportunity, although it seemed a bit rude to draw attention away from the host. There wasn’t so much of a difference — she spent so long insisting a second set of ears didn’t matter — but they were vulnerable in the same way; it took trust to allow that sort of touch without fearing pain.

“Is this okay?” Velvet murmured.

“Definitely.” There was a shiver when Blake stroked down the side of one ear, fingers tangling in the strands below, hair just a shade darker than the fur. “You can touch mine too, if you want.”

She abandoned the bottle to free her other hand, ignoring its brief precarious wobble on the edge of the bench. When Velvet found her feline ears, Blake expected a light caress, but instead small, tight circles were rubbed around the base of each one, massaging away tension until they lay flat against her head. A purr rumbled through her chest before she could cough to cover the sound, embarrassment sending heat straight up to both cheeks seconds later. If Velvet knew how to touch her ears, the result wouldn’t be any surprise. Painted nails drew a slow path all the way down to Blake’s nape, provoking a shudder from the friction. Everything felt so much more sensitive, the next pass over black fur sending a coil of heat to tighten low in her stomach.

“I don’t think this is going to work on a bench.” Blake said, mulling over the options. Yang had dropped her off on the Bumblebee and said to call for a pickup whenever, which put a car out of the question unless Velvet drove one here. “Do you want to find somewhere inside?”

“It feels like a sauna even if you find your own corner.” Velvet’s smile held a touch of mischief. “The woods are right there, you know.”

Golden eyes went wide at the suggestion. With the sun gone, it would be pitch black soon enough, but that wasn’t a concern for either of them. “Something tells me you have a favorite tree I don’t know about.”

“I’ve had a lot of firsts in that forest.” Their fingers laced together as Velvet got to her feet, skirt swishing around her hips when she turned. “Privacy’s hard to come by.”

Blake knew that all too well. The light tug on her arm became an insistent tug before Velvet pulled away completely, breaking into a sprint. After a second’s hesitation, Blake dashed to follow, boots scraping over grass and stone until they were in the thick of the woods, painted in shades of grey with splashes of green and gold where the fireflies zipped by. Running in the dark usually put her on edge, but there were no lurking Grimm or enemies giving chase, only keeping sight of Velvet as she vaulted over thick roots and under low, twisted branches; Blake had to try and keep up with the frenzied blur of Ruby’s Semblance in the past, but grace and speed seemed to come naturally to the huntress, who came to a sudden halt by an oak wide enough to have seen centuries pass by.

“Now no one from the bar can come out and see us.” Velvet said, triumphant and flushed.

“Do you know the way back?” Blake asked, putting her arms on either side of the trunk behind the other Faunus. Standing face to face, she had a clear advantage in height, if the rabbit ears weren’t taken into account.

“Maybe.” Their mouths met in another kiss, Blake’s knee nudging against Velvet’s thighs until they parted, skirt bunching up when her weight shifted forward. Fingers caught on the top button of her shirt, working it open, until a palm smoothed down the plane of her chest, kept flat by the restriction of a binder. Brown eyes widened as Velvet’s hand went still. “Oh! Pronouns. I should have asked earlier.”

“Feminine’s fine. It just felt more comfortable to go out this way today.” Blake said, unable to keep from glancing down. Velvet followed suit; with her leg braced against the tree, fabric pulled taut along that thigh and higher, revealing the shaft of the toy strapped under there. Usually she went without anything at all, but the point of coming to the bar had been to relax — although Yang had demanded a story if she got lucky. Riding on the back of a motorcycle was a tight fit, making it hard to lie. “If that’s alright.”

“More than alright.” Whatever doubt might have been left was cast away the moment Velvet’s hips pressed against against the same knee, friction from both stockings and panties resulting in a frisson of heat that Blake could feel like they were skin to skin.

Soft gasps grew to moans and whimpers as Velvet rode her thigh, some of the sounds swallowed by exchanged kisses while the rest escaped out to the open air; Blake wasn’t sure if they were far enough away to keep from being heard, but at this point, it was difficult to care. One hand held steady just above the tight band of the skirt, the other exploring the best way to touch Velvet’s ears. Slow caresses up the backs drew out the most consistent response, but the first time she used her nails, digging just so into the base of silky fur, Blake felt a full-body shiver, the legs trapping her own going weak. A slight shift of the angle and Velvet’s boots were nearly off the ground; the huntress was light, but the grip that pulled her into another kiss betrayed the strength hidden underneath.

“Tell me what you want.” Blake said, fingers catching on the zipper of the leather jacket to get it all the way open.

Dark eyes, half-lidded, flickered up to meet her stare, lips parted to take in a shaking breath. “Would you get on your knees for me?”

It took a moment for them to disentangle themselves from one another, but Blake finally settled down as asked, the earth far colder than the press of Velvet’s thighs. Her stockings felt like satin, outlining the muscle in each calf, smooth when she rubbed her cheek against them, the scent of slick heat overwhelming oak and dew. “How do you want to go about this?”

“You have a condom on you?” Velvet asked.

Blake felt like she had been caught with a hand in the cookie jar at the question, reaching into one pocket until snagging a foil-wrapped package and holding it up to be seen. There was a packet of lube as well, but only the former was asked for; taking one of each seemed prudent when she arrived, considering they were free. Rather than laughing or chastising, though, Velvet took it and reached underneath the skirt. From down on her knees, she could see a leather band buckled tightly above the top of one stocking, holding a knife in place.

At a raised brow, Velvet’s face colored again before she drew the blade from its sheath. “I can’t carry that box everywhere as a weapon. It’s heavier than it looks.”

Foil tore with a quick tug of white teeth, crinkling as the condom was taken out. A couple of careful cuts at the top and another along its length and Blake was handed back a wide rectangle of latex, the knife making a solid click when it slid back into place. “You’re a professional.”

That earned a smile and an off-kilter shrug. “Plenty of practice.”

Golden eyes lit up when Velvet eased her panties down, letting gravity take them all the way to her ankles, knees parting when she leaned back against the trunk of the tree. With the skirt pushed up, Blake could see clear arousal underneath russet curls, the only lure needed to put the latex against slick folds and lean forward. Even through the barrier, heat and scent surrounded her with the first lick, a purr of satisfaction rising up when Velvet’s hands wound through black locks again, resuming the massage at the base of violet-lined ears. She found a rhythm lapping from entrance to clit, giving the latter a firm suck when her lips encompassed it completely.

“You are too.” Velvet gasped.

Blake hummed at the compliment, followed by another stroke with the flat of her tongue.  “Practice.”

By the time Velvet’s hips started to buck forward against her mouth, Blake had braced an arm across to keep them pinned in place, her free hand slipping up past the stockings to the edge of the latex. A press of knuckles spread the other Faunus open, so wet that she was practically glistening, and gave room for Blake to tease with brief sucks and the very tip of her tongue, waiting until there was a telling tremble before returning her full attention back to Velvet’s clit. She let out a groan of her own when calloused fingers tightened into her hair and tugged forward, determined not to let her pull away a second time.

Rather than increasing in volume, Velvet’s initial moans quieted to whimpers and ragged gasps, pleas for more that Blake wouldn’t have caught if her hearing wasn’t so sharply attuned. Orgasm came with the short, erratic jerk of the hips trapped under her arm, coaxing out aftershocks with idle circles of her tongue until Velvet’s firm grip relaxed, hitched breaths drowning out every sound but Blake’s breakneck pulse. She leaned into the rewarding strokes over her ears, head tilting up until their eyes met, pleasure casting a haze over the shared look when brown locked with gold.

A hand was offered to help her to her feet and Blake took it, balling up what was left of the condom so it could be thrown away later. Velvet brushed away some of the specks of green and petals from the front of her trousers, but with so much damp earth, the stain was pretty much ground in; either way, this had already been well worth a load of laundry later.

When they kissed again, Blake couldn’t help but murmur, “probably doesn’t taste great.”

“You haven’t given me any reason to complain.” Velvet smiled against her mouth. “Now tell me what I can do for you.”

At that, Blake hesitated. Taking out the toy would have been the simple route, letting Velvet do whatever she liked with fingers and tongue, but she had worn it tonight since the weightfelt better, however awkward the bulge could be at times. Figuring out how to orgasm with it on had been trial and error, the silicone base deep enough inside her that it certainly was possible by stroking the length the right way, relying on the friction and pressure until release came in a rush. The sensation was different in a way Blake didn’t have the words to describe, but there were some occasions where it helped her feel at home in her own skin again.

“Can you come with this?” Velvet’s hand dropped between her thighs, palm pressing against the shaft and going still. The touch derailed Blake’s train of thought in an instant, but it also gave an answer; she sure as hell wanted to try. “However you’re comfortable.”

Even if there had always been a bit of distance between them at school — her own fault, giving other Faunus a wide berth even after her secret had stumbled out, for fear of what they might think, be it terrorist or traitor — Velvet was always kind when they spoke, always sincere. There was no hint of guile, although Blake could swear a glimmer of excitement was being held in check, trying to be encouraging without looking expectant. She felt a bit foolish, having thought this would work out with a stranger; without trust, someone who knew her, tonight probably would have been a disaster.

“Yeah.” Blake scrambled for the right words, but the first thing that came to mind spilled out in a rush. “I’ve never done it with anyone else, though. I could show you if you want.”

Velvet’s smile could have lit up the entire forest. “I  _want_ , Blake.”

The slight, accented lilt when the other Faunus said her name was a dose of confidence to counter the brief stab of anxiety as Blake worked open both belt and fly. Taking the packet of lube hiding deep in one pocket out, she tucked the clear edge between clenched teeth before repositioning the toy and easing the length out from the confines of black briefs, the head now angled in a way that was straining toward the taut muscles of her stomach. A bit of heat flared up Blake’s face when she looked back up at Velvet, unable to deny the feeling of being exposed, even if that was technically the point.

“Could we switch places?” Blake dropped the lube back into one hand, clearing her throat. “I mean, you standing behind me.”

She was grateful when Velvet agreed absent any questions, pausing only to take care of her wayward panties before pressing up against Blake’s back like a warm weight. With the difference in their height, the other Faunus had to lean to see what was being done, but without staring directly at someone else, Blake felt some of the tension in her shoulders bleed away. Opening the lube with a tug of the little plastic tab, half of it was squeezed out into the opposite palm while the rest went onto the toy, slowly dripping down the shaft before her fingers wrapped around the base. The first stroke upward gave an immediate reminder of the shorter end nestled inside her, providing an indirect line from the movement to a jolt of pleasure.

With her other hand against the tree, nails biting into the bark to keep steady, Blake experimented with the rhythm to see what worked best from this position, mindful that she was giving a demonstration. Slow, hard pulls seemed to be the best bet, letting every stroke bring the length in contact with the swell of her clit, even if it probably just looked like she was using the toy to jerk off; this was worlds away from being alone in her own room, eyes closed and imagining someone else working her cock. Someone else  _wanting_  to. “You see?”

“Mm, I do.” Velvet’s nails grazed over her hipbone, her other arm coming around to embrace Blake’s chest. “Can I try?”

“Yeah.” Seconds after the answer, before Blake could even pry her hand away, Velvet’s fingers were flush against her own, mimicking the measured pace up and down the shaft and then giving the base a firm squeeze, the added pressure forcing out a gasp. “Have you—have you done this before?”

“Similar things.” The other Faunus’ breath was hot against her shoulder, radiating through the fabric of the shirt; Velvet’s rhythm quickened just a touch, working all the way to the head and back without a second’s pause. “Everyone’s a bit different, though.”

Blake certainly wasn’t going to argue, not with how good it felt. Both arms kept her anchored to the thick trunk of the oak, something to lean on when a twitch went through the muscle of both thighs. Watching Velvet’s hand stroke her was almost as exhilarating as the building sensation low in her stomach, hips jerking forward up into that slick grasp and rewarded with another squeeze or a teasing grind against the curve of her ass, sparking heat even through the layers of fabric. Blake had to hold a plea on the back of her tongue, wary that saying anything aloud would break the spell, cut through the haze of pleasure setting her blood alight.

It didn’t stop Velvet from making noise; murmurs of encouragement mixing with soft moans when Blake’s hips pushed back against hers, opening the last buttons of the shirt so she could touch from the top of the binder all the way down to flexed abs, starting to become flushed with the sheen of sweat, without having anything in the way. A growl rose up in Blake’s throat when Velvet’s rhythm picked up, working her shaft hard and fast, the guttural sound answered with a pleased hum rather than recoil, making it impossible to think under the relentless touch.

“Are you close?” Eagerness bled through the question; Velvet wanted her to come just like this, she was looking forward to it—

The only answer was Blake’s startled curse as she went right over the edge, head bowing forward. So much was happening that it came to her in split second frames; her body clenching tight around the thick bulb of the toy, Velvet’s hand pressing the length just so against her clit while pumping up the shaft. She was wet and hard all at once, the release wrung out of her body so powerful that Blake almost staggered, gasping from the bliss that shot through nerves from head to toe, eyes squeezed shut until control of her senses returned, feline ears pinned down against her head as if she had been in shock.

“You okay, Blake?” Velvet’s arms encircled her in a tight hug, cheek pressed against one shoulder blade.

“I’m…really, really okay.” A laugh bubbled up Blake’s throat, somewhat hoarse but genuine. “I’m great. Damn.”

They stood there a moment longer until she recovered, tucking the toy back into her briefs and zipping up the fly of her trousers with shaking fingers. Wiping off either of their hands was a lost cause, considering, and Blake was sure both of them were in need of a shower and a laundromat at minimum, but she couldn’t stop smiling when they faced each other, especially when Velvet popped up to press another kiss to her mouth, apropos of nothing. She wasn’t even sure where to start.

“If you’re up for a bit of a run, we’re only about half a mile from my house now.” Velvet said, redoing the buttons she had opened until Blake’s shirt was closed again. “We could wash up if you wanted, although I’m curious what else you can do.”

It didn’t take an airship scientist to translate her pointed glance downward. “I’m not sure if I can run after that.”

Velvet relented with a somewhat smug grin. “A jog, maybe?”

As it turned out, they agreed to walk, Blake’s fingers tightly entwined with hers until the woods became a worn dirt road, fireflies and the stars overhead lighting the path back home.


End file.
